


Redemption Challenge

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M, dental spreader, dom jon, fackefucking, heysinger, sub joel, welcome to my rarepair fucking HELL, yall i think way more about this pairing than I should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: “I didn’t make you put anything in your mouth,” Jon points out. “No blindfolds, no food. You could have been a little more gracious.”
Joel opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again.
“Yeah, well,” he says. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Jon grins and starts away. Joel follows.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by OTS 57

It’s surreal, almost, to think there was a time before Jon worked at Rooster Teeth, a time that Jon was just a fan. That he would go from watching the founders try new content to asking which of their old bitch squad would be on his. It’s a rush, for sure.

“I don’t like it when you smile. Smiling means, means bad things. I swear to god, Jon, if you, you put me in a blindfold again—”

Jon eases back in his chair, takes in Joel’s accusing finger. Smiles wider.

“No blindfolds, Joel, _relax.”_

“Yeah, you fucking—you say that, right, but what are the chances—”

“Hey,” Michael interrupts. “How ‘bout you stop bitching and actually try to win for once?”

Jon watches Joel’s arm drop like a marionette with its strings cut, lets himself enjoy the way Joel’s so clearly put-out to have their pre-show ribbing disturbed rather than be bothered by it himself. Joel’s gone from gesturing to frowning, his lip between his teeth as he looks at Michael.

“What are you wearing?” he finally asks.

“You don't—a fucking robe, dumbass! Harry Potter? Hogwarts? Come on old man–what the fuck are you wearing? Backwards baseball cap? Is this the fucking nineties?

Joel’s expression doesn’t shift at Michael’s shouting, only deepens when Trevor settles into his seat in matching black and green.

“So this is a show, right, and I’m not about to be jumped?” Brian asks. Jon finally tears his eyes away from Joel to grin at their guest.

“Whatever it is, it’s being broadcast,” he says. “Alright, guys, sit the fuck down.”

—

“Are you sure that’s for a mouth?”

Jon laughs, and the audience laughs, and they all laugh, but when Jon hands the dental spreader to Brian he meets Joel’s eyes. Joel doesn't look away.

It’s a rush.

—

“I can’t, I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Hmm? What’s up, Joel?”

“Don’t you, no, it's too late to--don’t you fucking dare.”

Joel’s pointing again, frowning again, and Jon’s smiling. Hard to help it, really, when he’s been waiting for this, knows what has Joel riled.

“Gus was, Gus was in a gag a while back, why don’t you just fucking roll that out next time?”

“It’s not a gag, Joel,” Jon says, endlessly patient. “It’s used in dentistry, and is great fun in Mad Gabs. It was on Good Mythical Morning the other day, you really should keep up with internet content.”

“It was what?” Joel asks, frowns harder, points harder. “Shut up, no, you, you—bring that out, and then you—I’m not fucking touching it, Jon, it’s been in two mouths and a fucking gallon of beer, it's—”

“I have a second one.

“It’s probably got a yeast infection by now—what?”

“I’ve got a second one,” Jon repeats. “Another dental spreader. Straight from the sealed package.”

Joel stops pointing. Frowns a little less. Looks over his shoulder at where broadcast is still trickling out.

Jon counts to seven before Joel turns back around.

“I can’t believe you,” he mumbles. “Can’t, can’t believe you.”

“I didn’t make you put anything in your mouth,” Jon points out. “No blindfolds, no food. You could have been a little more gracious.”

Joel opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Jon grins and starts away. Joel follows.

—

The hat comes off, because it’s horrible, because it keeps Jon from being able to get his fingers in Joel’s hair. Joel complains about it, complains about his knees, complains about Jon’s smile until Jon tilts Joel’s head back like he’d done to Michael and tells him to open his mouth.

“This is awhul,” Joel slurs once it’s in, cheeks spread and nose wrinkled and surprisingly intelligible, really. Jon laughs at the image Joel makes on his knees with hat hair and a forced grimace; Joel’s cheeks color in answer. Jon catches Joel’s wrist when he brings it up, doesn’t let him wipe away the spit already threatening to dribble down his chin.

“Jon,” Joel says—plaintive, upset, distorted. The word shakes the spit free, sends a line of it cascading over Joel’s stretched lip. Joel’s whine is loud with his lips forcibly parted. 

“Oh, gross,” he manages. “Jon, _‘lease.”_

Joel’s freckles appear like stars in the night sky as he blushes.

Jon guides Joel’s hands to his thighs, doesn’t comment when Joel’s fingers dig in. It doesn’t take more than a few strokes to work himself into full hardness once he has his zipper undone, not with Joel on his knees blushing hot under Jon’s fingers when he tilts Joel’s head up.

“Tap if you need me to stop,” Jon reminds him. Joel grins his unnatural smile up at Jon as another strand of spit starts rolling down his chin, and then Jon is pushing his thumb between Joel’s teeth and forcing his mouth open.

Joel—Joel’s not the type to gag, traditionally, but taking away the lips from a facefucking does more than you’d think. Lips equal a seal, a seal equals suction, suction equals control. Equals sensation, as well, but what a dental spreader gives in return—

Gagging. _Noise._ A goddamn fucking _mess_ that has fastidious Joel squeezing his eyes shut as Jon rolls his hips in a rhythm just unsteady enough that Joel never knows when to take a breath, can never brace himself for the hand at the back of the head and the cock that slides so beautifully down his throat, for the cough and mess of spit that rolls down his chin after. His hands are steady on Jon’s thighs, though, unwavering even when Joel’s breathing starts to come in gasps and whines.

Jon feels the rush creeping up his chest, down his legs, making his hands tremble when he pulls Joel back by his hair and hooks a finger in the dental spreader. It slips on his first try, too fucking slick to grip easily, but on his second attempt Jon manages to get it out, to toss it aside.

Jon holds Joel where he is, head tilted back, until he works the stiffness from his lips and swallows and opens his eyes. Waits for Joel to blink himself back into the present, for him to realize that it’s his own spit soaking into his collar, coating Jon’s hand after he swipes it across Joel’s face and starts to jerk himself off roughly.

“Let,” Joel starts. His voice cracks. Jon releases his hair and Joel’s immediately back on him, nose nestled in Jon’s pubes, throat working and lips sealed and there’s suction, now, suction and frenzied pace that makes it so fucking hard for Jon to pull off, to stripe Joel’s face with his own contribution.

Joel stares up at Jon as he comes down—well, winks, really, because there’s a smear of jizz down one eyelid and the other is still streaming tears from the amount of gagging he’d done and it’s such a fucking _rush_ that even now Joel doesn’t move to wipe at his eyes until Jon rubs at the back of his hands in permission.

Jon’s glad to kneel in front of Joel with how unsteady he is on his feet, less glad when Joel shuffles away from his touch. Jon watches him hunch and rub at his face and stare at his hands and finally, _finally_ look up at Jon with the embarrassment high in his cheeks again.

“I,” he says. “I’m fucking, I’m filthy.”

“Yeah, ” Jon agrees. Watches Joel blush harder. Tilts his head to the side. “Did you come from that?”

Joel opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“You,” he starts, ends abruptly with, “shut up.”

Jon smiles. Joel frowns. 

(Lets Jon clean him up anyways.)


End file.
